One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. But to sacrifice what you are and to live without belief, that is a fate more terrible than dying.
- Joan of Arc

The blurry walls surrounding him were his first images as his eyes had begun to try flutter open despite the agonising urge to keep them closed. The immense pain in his body grew, shooting from his head to his feet causing him a involuntary sound to escape from his mouth. Shifting his body up the best he could, he begun to take in where he was. This wasn't home, nor anywhere he'd been before. This definitely wasn't Atlanta.

Observing his own body he began to see the heaps of bandages covering his skin. Several limbs were tightly secured and the remaining revealed patches were full of dark bruises and cuts. He knew something had happened; something bad by the looks of his body and this was only just the artificial wounds he could see. His insides felt like they had been moved around and played with while he slept and the several bandages around his abdomen only confirmed that.

He wanted to move, to get up, to try explore where he was. The vulnerability had begun to set in like a dark matter at the back of his mind as he realised how wounded he was/had been. The pale curtains had allowed some light to reach into the box room, which made him comfortable knowing the world still hadn't ended despite what remained of it. Before he had found himself here, the world had gone from normal to nothing. A virus they said on the news, had swept the continents destroying any evidence of humanity and creating what they described as "dead eating people" to cover the globe. No one had believed the rumours, thinking it was some government publicity stunt and that's when the cities were overtaken one by one. The news stations had broken down completely and the secured shelters were vast. It was now survival of the fittest.

The memories made his body shake with fear. The torturous scenes he had seen in Atlanta had scarred him for the rest of his life.

"You're quite safe here son" a strong southern accent filled the air. The apparent layer of sweat on his forehead had informed the strangers of his fears. As the old man walked closer to the bed, stepping with precaution, knowing that as scared as he was the man was just the same, he approached with what appeared to be a glass full of liquid.

"It's just water, drink up" He informed the young lad in front of him.

He didn't hesitate, feeling no need to not trust the man stood near him, and allowed the liquid to moist his mouth and throat for what seemed like weeks. A weak smile appeared on his face.

"What's your name?" He asked, finally able to swallow.

"Greene, Hershel Greene, and yourself?"

"Glenn, Glenn Rhee" He spoke.

"Well Glenn Rhee, my daughter picked you up in a pretty bad shape, but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that" He said, suggesting the pain Glenn had been experiencing since the second his eyes opened. "These will help" He handed over two white tablets and further cup of water from the jug he had put behind him.

Glenn had so many questions he wanted to ask, many were just simple ones like where was he, what had really happened that his mind had seemed to forgot, and then there were the complex questions about what he had seen before he brought here, was it real, was it still happening?

"How did I…" Glenn started his ask when the sound little feet running in the landing interrupted him. With a small knock on the door, a head shortly popped around to peek inside.

"Josephine" Hershel had transformed within seconds to a strict grandfather. His figure had grown and his southern accent had deepened. "What did I tell you about coming in here?" He reiterated. On several various occasions he had explained that man was sick and she was stay away until he was better, that was the nicest way to explain to a five year old that they didn't know if the man was a threat yet to them and his family.

"I'm sorry Papa" Her small head sunk into her chest whilst her brown pigtails flopped past her cheeks. Tears began to fall fast from her brown-marble like eyes, causing the instant use of her sleeve to wipe away the stray tears from her rosy cheeks. Her sweet button nose stood out now. Without further warning Hershel had walked closer to the child and put his arms around her body, rubbing her back smoothly in circles like he had down for years with both his girls until her cries subsided.

"Josie?" A female voice sounded frantic downstairs, it was evident she was searching for what Glenn assumed was young girl in this room. The cries were loud and would have heard from at least two rooms away if not further. The sound of feet hitting the stairs loudly didn't leave her entrance unexpected.

"Josie?" the last desperate call came until she slowly peaked into the room, seeing the door slightly opened and her little girl and father stood close by the bed. She ran straight to her daughter, rubbing away the tears near her chin and planting soft kisses all her face. "Don't do that again, you scared me" she had a similar southern accent that made his heart flatter.

"I'm sorry momma" she held onto her daughter tightly refusing to let go as quickly as she normally would. Picking her daughter up in her arms, which thankfully she still could do every now and then she turned to face the man whom she had found outside in the road, sitting up and looking alert.

"Glenn, this is my daughter Maggie" Hershel introduced his eldest daughter to the stranger from Atlanta.

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